I didn’t resist his protective gesture this time. The rage twisting Malachi’s face and the weird blackness he’d emitted earlier—which looked an awfully lot like what Cain had released into Brian—freaked me out. Malachi reminded me of a demon, not an angel.
I clutched my pendant, glad for its soothing presence over my jangled nerves.This can’t be happening, can’t be real.Yet if I believed in God, then my belief meant the angels were real. And demons. I clung tighter to Cain.
Malachi took a heavy step toward me, his upper lip curling with disgust.
“Wait. She didn’t do anything.” Cain raised one hand in a halting motion. “You cannot—”
“Now I understand Lucian’s curiosity.” Malachi drew in a deep breath and turned his palms outward to Cain. Gigantic bubbles blistered the skin. The tips of his fingertips were either blackened, red, or bloody.
I let out a small gasp.How had that happened, and why did he think it was me?
“Only one other has this kind of power, Cain, and I will make it my mission to not just deliver her to Hell, but I will own her body and soul in every way imaginable.” His wings flared outward and he dipped the tip of one in my direction, the black feathers only inches from my face.
I crushed myself against Cain, not wanting anything of Malachi’s to touch my skin.
A lone feather near the bottom floated to the wood at my feet, its color a deep violet, not quite as black as the ones near the top of Malachi’s wings.
I shivered and closed my eyes.This isn’t a dream, it’s a nightmare. Whatever he thinks, I didn’t burn him. How could I?But I didn’t feel much sympathy. The demon had tried to rip the hair from my head.
Something hard and cold pressed against my cheek, and I opened my eyes.
Smoky-hued armor covered Cain’s body. Designs swirled throughout the metal, and it armored him entirely except for his head.
I looked at Cain with new eyes.Who—no,what—are these people?
Not human. At least, Malachi wasn’t human—that much was clear. I’d thought he’d worn an elaborate disguise, but those wings were as real as the hatred and disgust oozing from his purple gaze.
All around us, my fellow students remained in suspended animation, adding to the unbelievability factor in my mind.
Cain lifted his arm and a long, black sword appeared. Lines of jet-black smoke curled around the onyx blade, swirling and dancing over the surface. He pointed the tiptoward Malachi’s chest. “Leave us.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered, not daring to let Cain go, even if he wasn’t human. In this new, crazy world, his presence next to me was the only real and sane thing protecting me against this Malachi demon. Even though Cain wielded the same kind of power, he seemed much more in control.
Or maybe I felt secure with him because he hadn’t hurt me even when there had been plenty of opportunities to do so.
“It’s going to be okay, Precious” he said without looking away from Malachi, but giving my shoulder a soft squeeze with his free hand.
Malachi’s dark stare followed the movement. “Watch your back, weakling,” he snarled, voice low and tight, “because when you least expect it, I’ll find a way to make her pay for what she did, then I’ll deal with you once and for all. You willneverbe one of us. Not in a million millennia or a billion universes.” He swiped a hand toward the floor and disappeared.
A heavy weight lifted from the air. The burnt flesh smell lessened, and I relaxed a fraction.
Cain let out an audible breath and turned toward me, his hand sliding to the back of my neck.
His strange, dark armor curved around his muscles, making him look even larger. I had no idea how he’d made it appear and really didn’t care.
The sword in his other hand faded away, and he reached toward my cheek, but I shook my head and backed away.
“I don’t know what happened, but I’m praying I’m trapped in an alcohol-induced nightmare.” The praying part sounded like a great plan, and as soon as I got home, I was going to break out my old Bible and reacquaint myself in my faith. Mom had been on me for skipping church lately, but I’d be rectifying the mistake shortly.
God, I’m sorry. I promise to never miss Sunday services again. Amen.
“I’ll try to explain it in a bit, but for now, I need to get you out of here.” He stomped toward me, the armor creaking slightly. “It’s not safe.”
“If you think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re—”
He flattened his lips and, in half a second, scooped me into his arms, cutting off the rest of my protest.
“You have fire. Unexpected, but quite welcome.” A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and he surveyed the crowd, as if reassuring himself Malachi hadn’t returned.
